


Robron Drabble #3

by Trawler



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, Hurt, M/M, Reflection, Stress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trawler/pseuds/Trawler
Summary: Set the night after Aaron Dingle discharges himself from hospital, following his confession to Robert Sugden that his dad raped him. Aaron’s point of view.





	Robron Drabble #3

At first I wasn’t sure if I was asleep or awake. I was so tired and everything hurt; my arm, my head, all the little nicks and cuts and burns. My heart. 

I was cold despite the blanket that Robert had found. The armchair was bloody uncomfortable. But I couldn’t move. Too tired – too useless – too broken – to get up and go home, because what the fuck was there for me? Mum, constantly pecking my head, fretting about this and that. I couldn’t have her worrying about me when she’d been so sick herself. And my dad –

No. I couldn’t let myself think about him again, because if I did, I’d go straight back to that dark place in my mind. 

Who the fuck was I trying to kid? I was _already_ in that dark place, had been for a long, long time, and there was no way of getting out.

I tried to get my eyes to focus in the dark. There was a person-shaped lump on the sofa. Robert was still here. I’d told him once that he didn’t snore but that was a lie, one of many we’d told ourselves and each other. He did snore. But it was soft and gentle and as I listened I felt myself drifting back to sleep.

Telling him about my dad… I was ashamed of myself for making such a scene, for bawling my bloody eyes out like a little kid, but I’d _felt_ like a little kid. Going back to that time, remembering how I’d felt then. It was all mixing together with how I felt now, knowing that mum was seeing him again, that they were serious and that he wanted to buy into the pub.

All of that pain, all of that hurt… everything would still be waiting for me in the morning. And the day after that. And all the tomorrows I had left in my sorry life. But knowing that Rob had taken me to hospital, had literally stopped me keeling over when I’d collapsed, that meant a lot. Having him here to listen. He’d barely said a word – a few questions – but there’d been no judgement on his face, nothing accusing in his voice. I wanted to believe that he was still playing an angle, doing or saying anything it took to get back in my good books, but if I really believed that I’d have to believe that he was a monster. Because surely no one could listen to the torture coming out of my mouth and not be moved? And he _had_ been moved, I was certain.

I hovered on the edge of sleep again, eyes closing, head lolling back against the armchair. Rob’s soft snores echoed in my ears. If I listened I could pretend that we were back in a hotel room, the first night we’d ever spent together… and that when I woke, we’d still be together.


End file.
